


Neal Shares Some Deep "Ipso Facto" Thoughts

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Roller Coaster, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:19:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Peter loved Neal, but he was honest enough to admit that he never really understood how the young felon's mind worked. Sometimes, it was damn scary.





	Neal Shares Some Deep "Ipso Facto" Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick one I decided to post in between the chapters of my current, in progress, longer fic, "The Making of a Con Man." Hope you like!

It was well past midnight, and Neal and Peter were propped up on pillows against the headboard of Neal’s tiger oak bed. They were both gloriously naked and temporarily satiated after hours of strenuous sex that always took them to an exquisite and extremely erotic place far from the confines of the loft on Riverside Drive. In another past era, perhaps they would have resembled film noire characters projected on a black and white screen with snifters of cognac in their hands and a cigarette dangling from their fingers. Tonight, they’d had to settle for tepid domestic beer.

Neal was uncharacteristically quiet. Peter still retained a satisfied smile on his face from their sensual exploits, and he was thankful for the silence because he didn’t want to shatter the moment with conversation. Discussions with the con man in his custody could be problematic and confounding, even on a good day. They usually went round and round until Neal finally got to the heart of things. Unfortunately, Peter wasn’t blessed with good fortune for very long because his young lover had suddenly become animated.

“I find it quite interesting that old J. Edgar Hoover, the lionized icon of a fledgling FBI back in the day, was a homosexual,” he said out of the blue with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Peter stared at his partner with a look of incredulousness. “Where in the hell did that little tidbit come from, Neal? Exactly what is your deviously serpentine mind conjuring up, and why now?”

“I’m just saying,” Neal explained, “that man led a deeply repressed sexual life, awkwardly rejecting the attention of women because he was more interested in his handsome young deputy at the FBI.  Everybody in the Bureau knew that Hoover and Clyde Tolson had become closet lovers, but nobody called him out for it. His minions weren’t idiots. They knew the kind of clout their boss had, and he would have squashed them like a bug if they dared to betray his hidden proclivities. So, they allowed him to hide behind a façade that the general public swallowed hook, line, and sinker.”

“Okay,” Peter conceded the truth of the matter. “So, what’s your point?”

“My point is that you are an FBI agent surreptitiously sleeping with someone of the same gender who is currently under your authority. Ipso facto, that must make you a …"

“I am not a homosexual, Neal!” Peter interrupted the young man before he could finish the sentence. “I should be accurately termed a ‘bisexual.’ Did you just ignore the fact that I am married to a beautiful woman with whom I enjoy fantastic sex? You are not my only carnal diversion.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I was going to say,” Neal objected, “but since you brought it up, I must admit that Elizabeth is certainly a wonderfully gracious lady to share you with me.”

Now Peter was exasperated and couldn’t let this go. “And need I remind you of all your previous female lovers. There was Alex, Kate, Sara, and, unfortunately, Rachel Turner. Those are just the ones I know about. So, _ipso facto_ , that technically makes you a bisexual as well!”

“I’m certainly comfortable with that label,” Neal replied innocently. “That actually puts me in a sort of elevated status in some exalted company.”

“How so?” Peter should have known better than to get into this insane discussion with a complex con man.

“Well, think about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” Neal began earnestly. “Sundance had Etta Pace to warm his bed, but Butch was always hovering nearby, maybe even being a bit voyeuristic. But when the desperados were alone on the dusty trail being pursued by a posse, the nights probably got a bit lonely for two virile and horny guys. I know Paul Newman and Robert Redford never played it that way on the big screen, but it was implied if you looked beneath the surface.”

All Peter could do was sigh because Neal was off and running with his ridiculous musings.

“Then there were Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson _,_ ” he continued. “I know the put-upon good doctor eventually married, but he seemed to enjoy spending more time with the clever detective than with his patient and tolerant wife. It sure makes you wonder what really went on between the sheets at 221B Baker Street.”

“Are you done yet?” Peter asked tiredly.

“Nope, I could go on and on,” Neal said smugly.

“Apparently, you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Peter acknowledged.

“I have.” Neal confirmed. “Allow me to give you a few more examples. There’s Starsky and Hutch, The Lone Ranger and Tonto, Han Solo and Chewbacca, Mario and Luigi, Bert and Ernie, and Batman and Robin, although that last pairing is a bit disturbing,” Neal claimed.

“Well, by all means, tell me why that duo upsets you,” Peter said sarcastically.

“Think about it, Peter. Bruce Wayne was at least fifteen years older than his young ward. I mean, we could be talking about a child predator in that scenario.”

Peter was aghast. “I’m fifteen years older than you, Neal! Is that how you see me?”

“Of course not, Peter,” Neal quickly sought to defuse the situation. “How could you even insinuate that you have that kind of control over me?”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Peter was suddenly unsure where this was all stemming from. Did Neal feel victimized and abused? After all, as a paroled felon, he was firmly under Peter’s power. Had Peter somehow pressured his CI into a sexual liaison? To his recollection, it had all just seemed to organically evolve. There was no aggressor or submissive. Whatever they had between them was reached on an even playing field. Peter had no regrets. Did Neal?

“For once in your life, be honest, Neal!” Peter pleaded. “Tell me why you started this whole discussion in the first place because I’m completely lost. Are you saying that you’re unhappy with the way things are? You can tell me. It won’t change our working relationship. There will be no repercussions on my end, I promise.”

“Peter, Peter, stop being so insecure,” Neal said fondly. “When I mentioned Hoover, I was visualizing another tacit truth that had nothing to do with you. Well, maybe, in a roundabout way, it may pertain to you.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of that, Neal,” Peter said with dread, “but, go ahead, enlighten me.”

A contemplative expression settled on Neal’s face. “Well, let me just say that J. Edgar Hoover was a consummate con man, projecting a false image and hiding behind a front. However, that certainly is not unusual in the ranks of law enforcement. Think about it. Cops are always pretending and putting on a false front. They lie with ease to suspects in their custody when they want to get a confession. The law says that’s perfectly within their purview to do so. Police routinely go undercover and take on fake roles in various crime syndicates. They perform clandestine sting operations after conning their criminal marks. Tell me I’m wrong when I draw parallels.”

“Please don’t use your new favorite ‘ipso facto’ word,” Peter snarked. “I get where you’re going with this.”

“Okay, then ‘ _ergo_ ,’ law enforcement is really comprised of slick con men,” Neal replied with a self-satisfied smile.

“Do you see me as a con man?” Peter asked uncertainly with a healthy dose of angst. He really needed to know.

“I see you as having infinite potential,” was the unsettling answer. “Now, if you’re willing to be a bit flexible, Peter, I could help you hone your latent skills. I could teach you things that would enrich your knowledge base and tempt you away from all the mind-numbing mundane stuff in White Collar. The sky is the limit when you think big.”

“I’ll let you know,” Peter growled as he took the beer bottle from Neal’s hand and pulled him close. “Right now, my interest is stirring in another direction where I already do have certain skills. And, just so we’re clear on the subject, that statement is definitely not a con.”

“ _Ipso facto_ , I guess we’ll just have to see about that,” Neal grinned.

 


End file.
